Poem. One-shot.
Hephaestus' Lament
I am old now, tired and worn,
A fearful sight to behold if any cared to,
Though even in youth I was unsightly.
Once, in an era faded past myth,
We were mighty, my family and I.
When lightning crackled, men made obeisance unto my father.
When the sun rose, men bowed to my brother.
And when love blossomed, men swore by my wife,
Beautiful, treacherous s lut though she was.
My father, the Thunderer, was the first to go.
I still remember his face when he found
That man had taken the mysteries of his Thunderbolt,
Stolen his magic,
His mystery,
His power.
Such pain on his face. Such anguish.
A look of utter defeat.
One by one we faded
Into the void from which even Gods do not escape.
Grieving for our lost flocks,
Slain by indifference,
By disinterest,
By irrelevance,
Until only I remained.
The Lamed One. The Cripple.
I was never loved to begin with and thus
I survive.
The time for we Gods has long since passed.
Now mortals ride the winds,
Part the waters,
Summon the flames,
And shake the earth,
With cunning artifice ten thousand times
More intricate than even my own.
Truly, there is no more place for us.
But we are not alone in our exile.
Who amongst you remembers the might of divine Herakles,
Who with godlike might
forced even Thanatos into submission?
Or the rage of wrothful Akhilleus,
slayer of ten thousand men?
Guileful Odysseus, well-beloved of my sister?
Noble Perseus, Gorgon-slayer?
Or gentle Orpheus, father of song,
Whose sweet melody charmed the cold heart of Hades himself.
You have slain them, mortals,
As surely as you have slain us.
You have cast us down,
Set yourselves up,
And in doing so
Destroyed the best of yourselves as well.
The boiling blood which flowed
Through Jason and his Argonauts
Has stilled,
Their courage and skill replaced
By cunning and craft.
For powerful, lifeless toys of metal
You have sacrificed much indeed.
Your power is great, and yet...
Whom amongst you can move faster than Atalanta?
Lift more weight than Ajax?
Shoot farther than Orion?
Or weave cloth finer than that which Arachne might make?
Whom amongst you can match them?
Whom?!
I am exhausted.
I close my eyes.
My time has come at last.
I go to sleep
And join them.
My father.
My mother.
My siblings.
And your heroes.
This world is yours now, mortals,
But we did not bequeath it unto you.
You took it with the power
Which you traded your legends away for.
And as I fade away, I wish you the best.
May your exchange have been worth it.